My Parachute Refuses To Open

Tell me this is a nightmare, the coffee is on, breakfast is waiting for me. Not happening in this alt ego world of twists and turns where Stephen King resides. I’m in the driver’s seat in front of the mansion belonging to the famous writer, Francine Peony. In the back seat are La Flor and LC making out for five minutes. Anyway, she told me to set my timer for five minutes, that’s all the time she had for love when she’s on a job. She’s taking this Big Carmen thing too serious. We’re going to break into Francine’s house, La Flor and LC are going to grab everything that’s worth anything. I’m supposed to help carry the loot to the car. Let’s see how it goes down.

The timer goes off. “My heart’s a thumpin an bumpin. It’s a dipping and dazzling. It’s making me stutter an shudder,” said LC.

“It’s what I do to the male species. Now pull yourself together or I’ll turn off the love potion. After you open the door, LC, you have to disable the alarm. Ray, here’s your ski mask and latex gloves,” said La Flor handing me a MacDonald’s to go bag.

“I don’t want to do time. I don’t want a happy meal,” I said.

“You won’t. Save the happy meal for O’Leary. Remember, I’m the best lawyer money can buy,” said La Flor.

“What if O’Leary comes back?” I asked.

“Give him your happy meal. Are you listening?” said La Flor

Suddenly, an old man’s golfing cap that looks like a Goodwill reject pops up from behind the passenger side seat. All I can see is the hat. The voice says, “Don’t worries, I’ll takes him out.”

I said, “Lil Carlo?”

“Don’t speaks my name. Calls me the insurance man,” said Lil Carlo.

Can it get worse? Yes. This story is out of control and I’m sky diving and my parachute refuses to open.

Two minutes later, we’re at Francine’s front door.

“Use got a key, Ray-mo?” asked LC.

“For what?” I answered.

“Duh. For dis door.”

“Do I look like Francine Peony would give me a key to her home?” I snapped.

“Chill bro. I was asking a question. I didn’t know how close use and Francine are, know what I mean?”

“You were pretty chummy with her at her party. Maybe one thing led to another thing and dis and dat, and befores use knows it, use get to go past Go,” said LC.

“We didn’t play Monopoly,” I said.

LC ignored me, and went to work on the front door. “Ten seconds and I’ll has it opened. Stand back. I put a tiny explosive on the door lock. This technique I learned from the guy that’s plays the guy in the Burn movies.”

“Do you mean Matt Damon in the Bourne movies?”

“What I say? Use got a bad habit of not listening, correcto? I hopes use speaks Spanish. On the count of three use gonna hear a boom, diddy boom, diddy, diddy, boom, boom.”

“You selling beats on the side,” I said.

What happened next was more than a boom, diddy boom, diddy, diddy, boom, boom. I don’t create beats, but I’ll say it might make you forget Roll Em Pete by Big Joe Turner and Pete Johnson.

“LC, you are the master,” said La Flor holding a small umbrella over head to shield her from the dust, smoke and following debris. ”

I stared at Francine’s front door, it wasn’t there. All the windows in the front of the house were blown out. The house was shuddering as if a 7.2 earthquake hit. The five chimneys were gone. So was the portico.

Lil Carlo stood next to me and tapped me on the arm with his gun, “Da kids got a knack for getting the door open. He gets too excited, maybe next time, he’ll cut back on the boom, diddy boom, diddy, diddy, boom, boom.”

“You do beats?” I asked.

“Only to supplement my income as a hit man.”

In the distance sirens.

La Flor walked over to me, “Suggestion.”

“What?”

“Let’s get out of here.”

Where is this story going? I’m going email Matt Damon, maybe he’ll know. Come by tomorrow to see if we make out without being arrested.